


Bruises

by Pink_Fubby



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 08:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Fubby/pseuds/Pink_Fubby
Summary: A small blooming bruise causes Armin to recall some painful memories and his fears for the future.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first works I ever made - I think around 2016? - and I felt like I needed to put this out there.  
> Criticism is more than welcomed!
> 
> [Edit: I didn't expect people to read this if I'm quite honest, so I didn't even bother to proofread it or change it orz.   
> I just rewrote some parts and corrected some errors - but feel free to tell me if I missed any! Thank you so much for reading this 2-years-old fanfic! It makes me very happy!!]

Dark splotches began to form on the dry concrete beneath him. His vision was blurry with tears which didn’t cease to flow and which made the spot above his cheeks itch due to the saline dampness. Between deep, shallow breaths, he passed his right hand through his dark blonde hair. His long, pale, and bony fingers acted as a comb while the blunt edges of his nails scratched his scalp, leaving burning trails to remind him that he was indeed awake. Slowly, he palmed his slender frame looking for any signs of pain while his eyes scanned carefully the areas of exposed skin. Fortunately, only one bruise had formed just below his right knee, exactly where the first hit had landed. The colors of the injury entranced him and sent him into a spiraling panic. 

His glasses and his school books had been discarded on the floor, and both had also suffered from major scratching and dust. However, it wasn’t anything that prevented Armin from seeing, nor reading, nor caring. With all his stuff gathered, he began his journey home.  
Just as he had expected, midway from crossing the park near his house was when the pain began to be too much for him to continue. A bench near the artificial lake was the sign he needed to take a rest - at least until he had enough energy to stand up and walk again. The pain hit in rhythmic throbs; Armin even noticed a pattern on how they came – he compared it to a needle going in and out of the same spot. But the bruise clouded his mind; familiar colors that made him feel so foreign, so out of place. So he stared, and each hue brought back another racing memory – all of them were memories of Eren. 

At first, he noticed the blue highlights of the bruise. These reminded him of the ocean and, by default, of Eren. It was their lifelong promise to explore the ocean one day. To swim in the vast glory of the depths of the waters and to see the creatures that inhabit it, no matter how scary they seemed for their 7-year-old minds. A book of Armin’s grandfather was their source of knowledge on the subject - with a map of the many oceans that surrounded the earth, diagrams and pictures of some fauna, and walls of text with words too long for them to comprehend at the time (who knew it was pronounced ‘Transatlantic’?). The memory caused him to chuckle slightly.

Then, he caught a glimpse of the dried-up blood that covered the areas where his skin was scratched. It was right after their enrolment to college when the football team first spotted Armin, as in order to get to his advanced physics class, he had to cross near the fields where the team practiced. The deep red reminded him of the many times he would attempt to patch Eren up - it was both a blessing and a curse that the brunette would always rise up to his defense when the football team decided to mess with him. 

‘If Eren wouldn't have left, this wouldn’t keep happening’, Armin thought. He knew it wasn’t fair for him to say that, because no matter how hard he pushed and punched, Eren – hyperactive, furious and passionate Eren – was still no match for them. But that was fine by him. It felt much better to be beaten up together than suffering by himself. At least they could take care of each other's wounds, or laugh at the action-filled moments, or cry together, or get to know they were not alone and that someone cared.  
It was the paleness of Armin’s knee that made the different shades of green stand out so much. Various shades of the color decorated the injury and every single one of them resembled Eren's eyes. After studying them carefully, he matched them with the different (but equally breath-taking) moods that he had seen reflected on his eyes: dark green when his mother had passed away, a golden olive when his gaze was burning with fury, and the light, soft green hues of his smiling eyes – the exact same eyes he could never grow tired of staring at and that he would do anything in his power (and beyond) to see. It was those eyes that he missed so, so much. He stared at that shade of green longer than the rest of the colours.

As the internal bleeding of the bruise had settled, some parts were tainted a soft shade of brown. He could feel the blood rushing to his head; it was the same damned color as his uniform. Armin could clearly remember the exact day the little ‘join-the-army-now!’-bug had been implanted in Eren’s head. That same afternoon, they came back home, and the brunette had shared his desires to join. On his hand was a leaflet with all the information and papers he needed to enroll. The mere thought made Armin’s heart hurt a bit, yet in the end and although a little hesitant, the blonde helped him fill in the papers because as long as he got to see that smile on his face – the one that made his stomach flutter and return the gesture – he was willing to do anything. Especially now that he knew that he wasn’t going to see it any much longer.  
He still flinches at the sight of anything military related: soldiers marching in parades, the school talks and demonstrations, and even the adverts on TV. Guess what hurts him the most is the fact that he knows Eren is not one of them.

The parts that most hurts were the purple ones.  
It was Armin’s last day with Eren, who was soon to be shipped to a nearby war zone, and although the blonde was well aware of the months of training Eren had endured, he was convinced they were not enough to prepare him for the grim reality that was war. The brunette had driven all the way to Armin’s house on his dad's old pickup and had thrown little pebbles at his window to signal him to wake up and come out. As silently as possible, he sneaked out of the house and, after some whispered greetings, the They laid down on the grass, unconcerned by the droplets of dew that moistened their clothes, and they looked at the stars while taking. They talked about them: the times they had spent together, their up and downs and their inside jokes. Eren and Armin had talked for what seemed like an eternity, but not even an eternity was enough for them. The two wanted to talk and to remember - they wished for this to last forever. But it couldn't. As the first rays of sunlight reminded them of the few moments they had left together, it accentuated how much it pained them to part. There was still much to say. In the present, tears flooded Armin's eyes again. These tears, however, hurt much more than the ones he had shed when the football team hit him - mainly because these tears were for Eren. Most of the droplets fell on his shirt and were promptly absorbed by the material, others managed to hit his knee and slid towards his injury. 

Right, the bruise appeared to not hurt anymore. With so much remembering, he had forgotten the initial purpose of his rest. He passed his hand atop of it. It was a superficial touch. A careful graze. And yet, it reminded him of Eren's touch.

Armin didn't initially notice Eren carefully placing his hand on top of his - it was quick and unexpected, and yet, so soft and warm. His caress was reminiscent of Eren. With the lights becoming more intense, the two boys moved closer to each other, and only then did they both realized that they were both crying. Eren's eyes were that tender shade of green clouded with tears and, to this day, Armin could not get that image out of his head. What he remembered the most clearly was the moment he whispered 'I love you' to the boy across him, but the feeling of floating when Eren had whispered those three same words back at him. That was all they needed. Not an awkward kiss, or a hug, or any other words - that would have made they goodbye even more painful. 

And so, Eren left. He occasionally wrote letters informing Armin of his shenanigans and vague clues of his whereabouts (since some information was classified). Although it wasn't the same as hearing him speak and meeting face-to-face, it still made Armin smile. He had no idea what brought them together – a pitiful sentimental and a fighting spirit - at a glance, there was no match. Yet there they were; together.  
Wiping his tears away, Armin stood up from the bench. He held his books close to his chest, his arms hugging them tightly and he gave a determined sigh. There was no way he was going to be sad again - not for Eren's sake. The blue-eyed boy smiled warmingly for the first time in a long time, his mind focusing solely on those three words Eren had whispered to him and written to him countless times. He began to walk home once again. He hoped - No, he knew that Eren was going to be back. They were going to be back together. The two just needed to be patient and pray that he'll come back home soon.

But, oh, how wrong he was.


End file.
